


Stubborn Son of a Grindylow

by IhaveAbadfeelingAboutThis



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, M/M/M, One Shot, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:55:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23582701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IhaveAbadfeelingAboutThis/pseuds/IhaveAbadfeelingAboutThis
Summary: Gellert has gone to great lengths to prove that he and Albus are soulmates - but not everything goes to plan.
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald, Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald/Theseus Scamander
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22





	Stubborn Son of a Grindylow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Carapheonix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carapheonix/gifts).



> I haven’t ever written soulmates before, but Carapheonix was pining for a Theseus/Gellert/Albus soulmates fic, and I have a tendency to say yes to her, even (especially?) when she doesn’t ask 😘

**January**

It was at a celebration for the 50th anniversary of _Defence Digest Quarterly_ that Albus saw him. It had been eight years (four months, and nine days.)  
The moment Albus arrived at the reception, he had noticed feeling lighter, like it was easier to breathe. Not that he had felt any tightness in his chest before it was relieved.  
He scanned the room as he always did. There was Theseus, speaking to the assistant editor. There was the Headmaster at the drinks table. There was Gellert –  
Gellert!  
The long absent Wizard nodded at him from across the room, and Albus panicked. He made it to the floo before Gellert could get closer than 15 feet away. He didn’t want to hear anything Gellert had to say. If he had wanted to speak to Albus, he could have written. 

And yet – as Albus spun his way back to his host’s house, he felt a tug – a need to turn around and go back. As if there were a thread between himself and Gellert, and it was stretching too far. But there was no turning around in a floo.

Albus told himself that leaving had been the right thing. He had always been weak when it came to Gellert – he could not trust himself with him. Still, he stood in front of the floo, feeling foolish and indecisive. Albus had just about decided to go back, when Theseus stumbled out of the floo straight into his chest. Albus felt instantly better. Still uneasy, but better. Theseus always made him feel better, somehow.

“Sorry!” Theseus said, blushing as he stepped off to the side. He began to brush off his robe – unnecessarily – Albus had never seen such a pristine floo as this one.  
Albus didn’t know what Theseus had to be sorry for – Albus was the one standing directly in front of the floo. Albus was the one who had –  
“Theseus! You should be back at the reception, meeting people, making new contacts. And I had said that I would introduce you to people. I apologise. I ought not to have left without even finding you.”  
Theseus shook his head, his eyes filled with concern. “Are you alright? What happened?”

What could Albus possibly say? ‘The man I have never stopped being in love with…’  
“I – felt suddenly ill. I needed to come back and lay down.”  
Theseus looked at Albus carefully, then nodded. He walked Albus to the guest wing and into his room, then summoned a house elf. The elf disappeared for a mere moment and returned with a cup of tea and a potions vial. Albus looked at Theseus and raised an eyebrow.

“Dreamless Sleep. And I’m standing right here and watching you take it.”  
“I don’t need –“  
“Then tell me what you _do_ need.”

Albus held Theseus’ gaze for an uncomfortably long time, but Theseus refused to look away. Stubborn boy.  
“Fine,” Albus conceded, tipping back the vial. “Satisfied?”  
Theseus opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again. He nodded and let himself out.

**April**

“Owl for you, Albus,” Theseus called. Albus had been reading and hadn’t even heard the bird at the window.  
“Theseus! I didn’t hear you come in.”  
“I have been here for half an hour, grading papers.”  
Albus laughed. “My apologies for not greeting you properly. Can I get you some –“  
“Tea? Already made some. There’s a pot on your desk under stasis, if you want some.”  
“In a minute. Thank you. Owl, you said?”  
“Yes – stubborn thing. It wouldn’t let me take the letter. It must have been instructed to give it only to you.”

Albus took the letter. Gellert’s handwriting.  
He had been receiving one every day for five days. Six days, now. He had tried to toss them into the fire, but they were charmed – fire-proof. He threw them into the trash, and they returned to his desk. He disappeared them – they reappeared on his bedside table.  
Albus tried to rip this one up in frustration. Indestructible.  
It was maddening. And impressive. 

Albus crumpled the still sealed parchment into a ball and threw it at his desk, where it flattened itself out and lightly floated to the top of the growing stack of letters.  
He had forgotten Theseus was there, or he would have nonchalantly carried it to his desk, passed it off as unimportant. But Theseus was there, and he was unremittingly curious. So of course, he walked to the desk, and Albus couldn’t bring himself to raise his voice, to protest the invasion of privacy. Theseus seemed to have little sense of privacy when it came to Albus, and Albus, for his part, indulged Theseus generally. Which was not at all typical for him. Albus fiercely protected his privacy under normal circumstances. 

“Albus. This envelope says, ‘For the love of Freyja, open me’ And the one underneath it says, ‘You always were a stubborn son of a Grindylow’ And beneath that –“  
“Beneath that is ‘What is your fucking problem, Albus?’ then ‘It does no good to try to destroy them.’”  
Cutting Theseus off like this stopped him, as Albus had hoped it would. It provoked a response before Theseus could get to the first two envelopes: ‘I miss you,’ and ‘Don’t you miss me?’

“I think you need to open these, Albus.”  
“I don’t think it is any of your business,” Albus countered, in a voice a bit harsher than he had ever used with Theseus before. Theseus was unfazed.  
“You always were a stubborn son of a Grindylow,” Theseus replied, laughing. “I’ll leave you in peace so you can see what this equally stubborn arse wants from you.”  
And just like that, Theseus was out the door, a pile of not-yet-graded papers under his arm. 

Still, Albus did not open the letters. He was afraid – afraid of himself. Afraid he would not be able to resist Gellert, that he would give him anything he wanted. He had indulged every whim of Gellert’s, and look where it had gotten him – alone. He would have gone anywhere, done anything Gellert asked of him, but Gellert had left him behind. 

**July**

The letters had stopped coming. Albus hoped that meant that Gellert had given up. He feared that instead it meant that Gellert was regrouping – devising some new strategy. And he was trying not to think of the third possibility – that the letters had stopped coming because they had reached their intended number. Albus had been unable to keep himself from counting the letters as they came – there were sixty-four – one for every day that Gellert had been in Godric’s Hollow, from the day Albus met him until the day he ran away.  
He hadn't thought that that number would mean much to Gellert, but it was difficult to discount the possibility. Sixty-four letters. As much as it hurt to think that Gellert might have lost interest, the idea of being tempted to give in to him, to open his heart to someone so untrustworthy _again_ – no, Albus needed it to be a coincidence.

Albus took a deep breath. He didn’t have to worry about Gellert. He was safe here at Hogwarts, where even the grounds were warded – all he had to do was stay within the confines of the wards, to not let Gellert tempt him out of the castle and off the grounds. And why should he leave? There was plenty to do here. If Albus wanted to take a long walk, he could circle the Black Lake. If he wanted a view of the night sky, he could climb the Astronomy Tower. If he wanted an adventure, he could enter the Forbidden Forest. 

Or he could simply stay in and completely overhaul the curriculum for next year. He had learned a lot in the past three years about the students, and it would not be too difficult to tailor the curriculum to suit both their learning styles and the gaps in their knowledge. He was looking forward to bouncing some ideas off of Theseus, and helping Theseus narrow down his research topics, and talking to Theseus about what he had been reading - 

“Ah – Albus! I was hoping that you would be in your office!”  
For Merlin’s sake. What did Black want now?  
“I wanted you to meet our new Divination teacher.”  
Albus was less interested in meeting the Divination professor than he was in being Transfigured into a snuff box. Why they even bothered trying to teach something that was clearly innate was beyond Albus. They should teach something truly useful, like household spells, or basic healing, or… 

“It’s a shame none of the other professors are staying over summer break. They won’t have a chance to…”  
Albus sighed. He was going to acknowledge the Headmaster sooner or later. He set his book aside and looked towards the open door. Black continued talking, but Albus didn’t hear anything he said. Gellert. Gellert was standing right behind the Headmaster. The new Divination teacher was - ? Albus’ throat tightened. He wanted to get out, he wanted to run, he wanted – for Black to go away so he could slam Gellert against a wall and –

“Thank you for the introduction, Headmaster. Albus and I knew one another –“  
Albus found his voice and schooled it into indifference. “Professor – Grindelwald? Is it? What a funny coincidence.”

“Oh! You are already acquainted!” Black sounded delighted, as if he had personally accomplished something marvellous by hiring a man who had been kicked out of Durmstrang.  
“Unfortunately, we only knew one another for a _very short time_ ,” Albus answered. “We didn’t get to know each other particularly well. And it was a long time ago.”

“Well! I imagine you would welcome the opportunity to catch up, then! It has been delightful showing you around Hogwarts, Gellert. But if you will excuse me, I have a great deal - ”  
Black’s voice faded out, as he walked away, still chattering. Albus had never known the man to chatter. Gellert could charm anyone – it was obnoxious.

“Well, Gellert. You went to a lot of trouble to simply be left in the same room with me. Committing to an entire year of teaching Divination? Are you sure you can tolerate being in my vicinity for longer than _two months?_ ”  
Gellert winced.

“Albus… I never wanted –“

The door popped open.  
“Albus?”  
Theseus stepped in and spotted Gellert.  
“Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had a guest.” 

Theseus continued staring at Gellert, much to Albus’ annoyance. Yes, he was a striking man. That didn’t mean that Theseus had to gawk at him like that.  
On the other hand… Theseus had likely just saved Albus from caving to the first half-baked excuse for his presence that Gellert might have offered.

“Yes, this is the new Divination professor, Gellert Grindelwald. Grindelwald, this is my teaching assistant, Theseus Scamander.”  
“Oh? I didn’t realize that we get teaching assistants.”  
Theseus blushed. That was – curious.

“Usually, we don’t, but Theseus was interested in doing a Defence mastery –“  
Gellert’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, I’m sure that the _opportunity_ you provided was _quite_ interesting.”  
Albus didn't know what was putting that tone of suspicion in Gellert's voice, but Albus didn't like it. He wouldn't hesitate to hex Gellert if he took that attitude much further. 

Theseus looked between the two of them. His gaze lingered on Gellert a little longer than Albus thought was normal. 

“I should – probably go.” He said, still looking at Gellert, as if he were speaking only to him. “You were talking, and I just barged in…”  
“Knocking does seem the civilized thing to do,” Gellert suggested.  
It was true that Theseus never knocked. Albus hadn’t considered it 'uncivilized' – just… _friendly._ He liked it, actually. But it was probably an invasion of privacy, now that he thought about it. He wondered if he should care about that.

“But – now that you are here, perhaps you would like to stay and tell me how you find Albus.” Gellert paused. “As a teacher.”

Theseus ignored the question, instead observing, “You know each other. You knew one another before today.”  
Gellert lifted an eyebrow. Theseus blushed and looked down.  
Theseus turned to Albus, looking at him for the first time since he had spoken his name upon entering the room.  
“Professor Grindelwald… He is calling you Albus, and almost no one calls you Albus. And you called him Grindelwald, so – “  
Theseus’ eyes widened and he inhaled sharply.  
“Stubborn son of a Grindylow,” he said, under his breath.

They all three fell silent. Gellert’s attention snapped to Albus. What was Gellert making of Theseus having seen one of the letters? How had Theseus put it together so quickly? Simply from the intimate animosity?  
Gellert continued looking steadily at Albus.  
“I don’t suppose you read them.” His eyes flicked to Theseus and then back to Albus. “Either of you.”

Albus rolled his eyes. “Of course not! It seemed –“  
Albus stopped when he saw Theseus looking at his hands. Theseus had read one of his letters? What had possessed him - ? This went beyond the usual…

“Pardon me for a moment, Gellert.”  
He had used his bloody name. It had just slipped out. No time to think about it. Best just to pretend it never happened.  
“I believe that Theseus has something he needs to confess to me. In private.”  
“Oh, no. The letters were from me, which makes me an interested party. I think I would like to hear him share with the class.”

“Soul… mates…” Theseus choked out.  
Soulmates? Had Gellert claimed - ?  
“Gellert – please explain –“

Albus cut himself off the moment he noticed the way that Gellert was looking at Theseus. He appeared – alarmed. Then… curious? As Gellert’s eyes met his, Albus felt a wave of longing wash over him. Gellert had always hated being proven wrong… but only for a moment. Soon his intellect would take over, and he would find himself intrigued by having a new and unexpected puzzle. Albus had ~~loved~~ ~~admired~~ found that fascinating. 

“Tell me, Theseus,” Gellert’s gaze shifted to Theseus only after he spoke his name. “Do you remember the first time that you and Professor Dumbledore touched?”  
Their hands had brushed against one another when Albus was returning papers. Albus remembered because he had lost his bearings for a moment. And because of the pain in his chest right as he flinched away from Theseus, and for several minutes afterwards. Days, really. His first thought had been that he had been cursed somehow, and would have confronted Theseus about it, if he were not so obviously unlikely to do such a thing.  
“We – he was handing a paper back to me. And our hands touched, and –“

“And you didn’t know where you were for a moment. There would have been pain; the contact couldn’t have lasted very long, and aborting first contact early can cause… it doesn’t matter. How old were you?”  
“I was – it was my sixth year. Our hands touched in –“  
“February,” Albus contributed without meaning to. "Two years ago, this past February." 

Gellert glanced at him, without turning his head, but immediately returned his attention to Theseus. Theseus, for his part, didn’t seem to find anything odd in Albus remembering such innocent contact, but _Albus_ found it odd, now that he thought about it. He touched other students all the time – returning papers, correcting their hold on their wands or tapping their feet with his foot as a gentle reminder to correct their duelling stance. He would give them a hand up from the floor when they’d been knocked over in a duel, or ruffle the hair of first years periodically, remembering how difficult the loss of parental physical contact was, that first year away from home. 

He was aware in a general way of having touched almost all of his students at one time or another, but he only remembered specific instances when that contact was tied to something extraordinary. For instance, he had laid his hand on Constance Diggory’s shoulder as he stopped her nose from bleeding after she was cursed by a third year – with a spell that Albus himself had never seen before. He would never forget it. But Albus couldn’t say exactly when it had happened – he could do no better than to narrow it down to a two week time window, if he thought about it hard enough.  
But his hand had merely brushed Theseus’ hand – and he could tell you the day, the hour, what the sky had looked like out the window, how the items on his desk had been arranged. 

“Yes, that’s right, February. February the 22nd - it was a Thursday. I turned 17 the next week.”  
“And since then - what is the farthest you have been from Professor Dumbledore?”  
“I had to go home at the end of the school year. We live about eighty miles away from Hogwarts.”  
“That must have been difficult for you. Other than that?”  
Theseus blushed again.  
“F-five hundred yards? Give or take?”

Albus became alarmed. His head whipped from Theseus to Gellert.  
“I – umm. I haven’t gone home since I came back for my seventh year.”  
Albus had not thought about it before now, but that was true – the only time Albus could remember Theseus not being at the school was when he met his parents in Hogsmeade – or when he went to the conference in January… with Albus.  
Five hundred yards? Really? Was it possible? The more Albus thought about it, it was not only possible, but likely.

“Albus – “ Gellert started, sounding almost apologetic. “This was not supposed to happen. He shouldn’t have been able to read those letters. There are only two explanations, and neither one of them… No, there is only one explanation that fits all the data, but – “  
“What data?”  
“Albus, I’m sorry to ask, but I need to see what happens when you read one.”

Albus did not want to reveal where the letters were, did not want to admit even to himself that he had ended up keeping all of them in his bedroom, in a box he had made just for them and kept under the bed. So instead he began to say, “Gellert, I’m not sure where they –“  
Gellert rolled his eyes. He had always been able to tell when Albus was lying. Not that Albus had lied to him often.  
“Albus," Gellert said sternly, taking two steps towards him, "You know very well where those letters are.“  
Albus walked the rest of the way to Gellert and pushed him. “What makes you think - ?“

“Stop it,” Theseus barked. “Just – stop. Both of you. Before you get to the point of pulling one another’s clothes off…”  
Albus looked at his hand, still on Gellert's chest. He dropped it and stepped away.

Gellert had the decency to look mildly embarrassed, but Albus could tell that it was put on for Theseus’ benefit. Not least because the moment Theseus’ eyes moved away from them, Gellert winked at him. This did not make Albus feel any friendlier towards him. He pointedly looked away, following Theseus’ eyes to where his hand was reaching into the inner pocket of his robe – and pulling out a letter. With an apologetic look, Theseus handed the letter to Albus.

He had been carrying it around with him?  
Albus gave Theseus his ‘we are going to talk about this later’ look, and opened the letter. As he began to read, he became mortified – Theseus had read this? About himself and Gellert? 

_My Dearest Albus –  
Life without you has been intolerable.  
Please believe that I never would have left you if I had had a choice. Aberforth was threatening that he would report us both to the DMLE as degenerates, in retaliation for Ariana’s death, unless I left – without you. I knew how terrified you were of Azkaban – it would have been impossible to miss the look in your eyes when you told me about your father. I couldn’t risk that Aberforth was bluffing. If I had told you why I was going, you would have made some noble declaration – I knew that I could only fulfill Aberforth’s requirements if you didn’t know when or where I was going.  
I have missed you desperately, Albus. It has been agony to be separated from you. Physical agony. At first, I thought it was the pact, but then I remembered that from the moment our hands met, I had only been comfortable when you were near, only at perfect rest when you were in arm’s reach. If anything, the pact stabilized me, dimmed that feeling of emptiness when you were not in the room with me – until I was too far away for that token of our vows to be enough.  
I cannot tell you how difficult it has been not to return to you, not to confess to you how much I love you. But now I finally can. No one would believe anything Aberforth might say about that summer now, and we are old enough to know how to practice discretion. Please tell me you feel the same way – that you feel the same draw to me, the same incompleteness without me.  
Soulmates, Albus. I have been researching and I am convinced that is what we are – we are soulmates. That is why we were drawn to one another so quickly, that is why I feel this pain when I am apart from you, and that is why we were so impossible to separate - until Aberforth finally divined a way.  
If you can read this –  
I have been looking for a way to convince you, and I finally found the formula for this potion – I brewed it myself. No one but my soulmate will be able to read these words.  
I am coming for you. I will do whatever it takes to convince you that we belong together – that we were literally made for one another.  
Yours always,  
G_

Albus looked up at Gellert. He looked so subdued - guarded. Albus wanted to close the distance between them, to hold Gellert and whisper to him that everything would be alright, that he was forgiven. But the thought disappeared as soon as it had arisen – replaced by fear. He had almost opened his heart. This one letter was all it had taken to nearly break his resolve. He had been right not to read them. 

“Theseus. You read this.”  
Theseus began to nod, cleared his throat, then quietly admitted, “I did.”  
“And you didn’t share it with me?” Albus asked, his voice rising in volume.

Theseus, who, Albus had to admit, had been more than patient in his handling of this highly irregular afternoon, finally lost his temper.  
“Why _would_ I share it with you? You stubbornly refused to read any of them. Why would you attempt to discard these letters without even opening them, when the sender clearly knew you, and was so desperate for you to listen to them? I didn’t know what that might mean! You were being uncharacteristically secretive, and… it occurred to me that you might be in danger.”

“That is a _fascinating_ rationalisation,” Gellert deadpanned. "I'm sure it had _nothing_ to do with the undesirable possibility of me being _correct_."

Albus ignored Gellert. He just continued glowering at Theseus, until he added, “And – and I supposed that it must be a hoax, since I was able to read it. ‘Only soulmates,’ he said. And if that were not true, what else might not be true? And you knowing might be – worse than not knowing.”  
If it were a hoax, what good would it do for Albus to have read it? Yes, this was an excellent point, and one that Albus had thought of himself. Either Gellert was lying about having found and brewed such a potion at all, or he was telling the truth and had somehow brewed it incorrectly (which seemed unlikely), or he had found a formula that did not do what it claimed. Which was unfortunately not uncommon in some older books.

“You did say that Theseus shouldn’t have been able to read it.”  
Albus didn’t look at Gellert. He didn’t address him by name. But it was clear who he was speaking to.  
“Yes, this is an unexpected turn of events.”  
_An unexpected turn of events?_ Said so dispassionately, as if he had not written… as if Albus had not just read…  
“Gellert –“ Albus choked out, looking up at him now. Gellert looked so – distant. The way he used to look when he was pretending not to be hurt. Perhaps Albus should have held him, as he had first wanted to do. Perhaps returning his focus to the mechanics of the letter before dealing with the content had been too much. Or perhaps he ought not to have allowed Theseus to accuse Gellert, even indirectly, without checking him.

“Theseus, how long have you had this in your pocket?”  
Gellert was continuing his inquiry, then.  
“Since I read…”  
“You mean, since you took - “  
“Yes, you’re right. Since I took it from Professor Dumbledore.”

Albus felt a bit surprised that Theseus had not called him by his first name, and surprised by his own disappointment at that. Theseus had been calling him ‘Albus’ since he had graduated – just over a year. But he was embarrassed, most likely, at having taken the letter. Perhaps he didn’t think that he had the right to claim such familiarity after a betrayal like that. As if it were something that Albus could not forgive. 

“And do you usually take things from… Professor Dumbledore?”  
“No! Never!” Theseus sighed in defeat. “Except –“  
“Except for when you went home for the summer after sixth year? You took something of his and kept it with you?”  
Albus looked up at that. Gellert might be a Seer, but he was no Legilimens. 

“Are you –“  
“I’m not reading your mind, Theseus. I have a – something that Albus and I made together that I keep with me at all times. And I imagine that Albus has something of mine in his pocket right now.”  
Albus inhaled sharply. He did.  
“So? You took…”  
“A quill,” Theseus confessed. “One of his quills.”

Theseus looked towards Albus, but he couldn’t meet his eyes.  
“I’m so sorry,” Theseus said, quietly. “I didn’t even know I had done it until I found it in my pocket, and I – I couldn’t -“ He swallowed as if he were trying not to cry.

“Oh, Theseus.”  
Albus walked to Theseus, pulled him up out of his chair, took him into his arms, and whispered, “It’s ok. I forgive you.” 

Gellert cleared his throat. “Easy to forgive him when you did the same thing.”  
“I didn’t take –“  
“No? Let’s see. What makes the most sense then… You didn’t return one of his papers?”

Theseus gently pushed Albus away – holding him just at arm’s length.  
“You – when I returned for seventh year. Albus, you said you had forgotten.” Theseus didn't sound angry, but he did sound disappointed.  
Albus took two steps back.  
“I – Theseus, I _did_ forget.”

Gellert came over to the two of them and took Albus’ hand. Albus surprised himself by not pulling away. He felt that he was breathing freely for the first time in years.  
“You’re a good man, Albus. You never could have allowed yourself to act on feelings for a student – and in a case like this one, that could only have been avoided by not recognizing those feelings. _I believe you_ that you forgot. But part of you knew that you needed that paper. To be separated from both of your soulmates at the same time –“

At this, Albus did pull his hand from Gellert’s grasp.  
“Gellert. It is time for you to give up this charade. There is no such thing as a soulmate, and even if there were, people don’t get more than one.”  
“No, usually not.”  
“’Usually not,’ he says. You were counting on me not showing anyone else the letters, and now Theseus has read one, and you have to come up with some –“  
“Explain the quill, then, Albus.”

That was nothing! _Maybe_ Theseus had had a crush on him as a 17 year old. Maybe.  
But –  
Albus thought about the button in his pocket, pulled off one of Gellert’s old shirts. 

It had happened the first week of Gellert’s stay in Godric’s Hollow. The two of them had been standing in Bathilda’s kitchen. Gellert had been gesturing excitedly, re-telling the story of some historic duel, when he had knocked the pumpkin juice out of Albus’ hand, splattering it all over his shirt. Gellert apologized profusely, grabbed a towel, and began drying Albus off – and the next thing Albus knew they were kissing. Not an experimental meeting of lips, like Albus had shared with another boy on one or two occasions. No, this kiss turned his world upside down, and it had escalated quickly. 

When Bathilda had spotted them coming down from Gellert’s room, more than two hours later, Albus wearing Gellert’s clothes, Gellert had explained, ‘I dumped Albus’ pumpkin juice on him, accidentally, so I took him upstairs so that he could change.’  
Which told about five percent of the story.

Albus had returned the trousers, but not the shirt. The shirt had smelled like Gellert, and reminded him of that day up in his room, and of all the days that followed. Somehow, that shirt had remained comforting long after Gellert’s scent had faded. Albus _still_ slept in it, more often than he would like to admit. 

He wasn’t sure how he had gotten the idea to remove one of the buttons and keep it in his pocket, but he knew it was after Gellert had left, and that it happened around the same time that his depression moved from crippling to a dull ache. He had told himself that it was the partial lifting of the depression that allowed him to carry a reminder of Gellert, but perhaps it had been the other way around. 

Gellert was right – it had started with that first touch, their hands meeting as they both bent over to pick up the now empty glass off of the floor. How long their hands had lingered there, Albus couldn’t say. Time had stopped. And then when Gellert touched his chest, even if it was with a towel – he had felt as if he had been made for that express purpose – just to stand close to Gellert Grindelwald, and to be touched by him, and – and then their lips met, and Albus was utterly, utterly lost.

Lost.

For two months, he couldn’t breathe without him. He only ever completely relaxed when they were touching one another, no matter how innocently, but when they could not be within arm’s reach, Albus could feel Gellert’s emotions from across the room. Albus didn’t want to experience anything without him. His magic was the most powerful it had ever been, his thinking faster, his perceptions more clear.  
And then Gellert was gone, and Albus’ ability to care about anything went with him. It seemed that Gellert’s leaving had torn a hole not just in Albus, but in reality itself.

No. He could not – it was too dangerous to contemplate. If they were soulmates, Albus didn’t want it. He would not allow himself to be compelled to give himself over and over again to this man who – was it even true about Aberforth’s threat? About his reason for leaving?  
Albus wanted it to be true that Gellert had always loved him, had never stopped, but he didn’t want them to be soulmates. What would it mean for them never to have had a choice? For them not to have a choice now?  
But he could not ignore that nothing about Gellert had ever been optional – the drive to function as one being instead of two had carried them both along inexorably – his feelings for Gellert when they were together were no more under his control than was his bereavement when they were parted. 

Albus would not permit it to happen again. Ensuring that he would never be in the same room with Gellert from now on? That, at least, was under his control. 

“I think that you should go. Grindelwald.”  
“Oh? I suppose I should have expected to hear those words from you. That’s what you said last time, too! Those exact words!”

No. Gellert could not blame him for that.  
“I did not!”  
“You did. Not that it made leaving any easier.”  
“It must not have been _too_ hard for you, or - ” 

Gellert’s mouth slammed against Albus’. A stubborn remainder of Albus was screaming for him to flee or push Gellert away, but he could only pull him closer. He needed him. Needed more – one hand moved to the back of Gellert’s neck, while the other was spelling Gellert’s clothes off of him, piece by piece, wandlessly, wordlessly. Robe… coat… waistcoat… shirt… Then bare skin, at last. Gellert groaned softly as Albus splayed one hand out on his back. So warm and hard, just like he remembered. He needed - 

“I should – probably go, then –“ Albus heard Theseus say, and Gellert broke the kiss immediately. They both turned to look at Theseus, who was decidedly _not_ leaving. He was instead sitting once again, breathing heavily, his hand suspiciously high up on his thigh. 

Albus hadn’t ever thought of Theseus as – but now, looking so intoxicated after only having watched him and Gellert... How had Albus never noticed how gorgeous that boy was? How had he not registered the way that Theseus looked at him?  
Albus looked at Gellert, and Gellert ran a finger down Albus’ jaw.  
“You want him. You want him as badly as you want me.”  
“Don’t – “

Gellert turned back to Theseus.  
“And you – you want us to continue – you just wanted us to acknowledge that you were watching.” 

Gellert beckoned to Theseus, and Theseus stood, and took a step towards Gellert and Albus. Gellert took a step forward to meet him. Albus watched as Gellert laid one hand on the side of Theseus’ face. Gellert and Theseus stood there looking at one another for a long time.  
Gellert broke the silence. “You are so handsome. I had not expected – this shouldn’t be possible,” Gellert said in amazement, before gently kissing Theseus. Gellert pulled back. Without breaking eye contact, Gellert called Albus over. 

“Albus – you need to taste this boy’s lips. He’s delicious.”  
“Gellert –“ Albus groaned.  
“You want to, don’t you?”  
“Yes,” Theseus breathed.  
“Well, I _had_ been asking _Albus_ , but I thank you - I think he needed to hear your answer to that question.”

Gellert went to stand behind Albus and spoke softly to him. “You heard him, right? He wants you.”  
Gellert gave Albus a little push towards Theseus.

“I can’t, Gellert. He’s my student.”  
But he wasn’t _Gellert’s_ student, Albus realized. There was nothing standing between Gellert and Theseus. Albus found himself wishing he were Gellert, for a moment.

“I am not your student, Albus. I haven't been your student, properly speaking, for just over a year.”  
Gellert kissed the back of Albus’ neck. Albus pulled away slightly and began sputtering:  
“You are – you’re – you’re my - “  
Theseus stopped Albus’ mouth with his own.

“That’s right. I’m yours,” Theseus answered, before kissing Albus again. “And if I have to choose between getting my mastery with you and – this – “  
Theseus kissed Albus a third time.  
Albus dimly registered Gellert’s cock rubbing against his arse, his own erection and Theseus’ pressed against one another, more clothes coming off -

“No!” Albus protested, pushing Theseus away and then stepping away from Gellert. He spelled every missing article of clothing back onto all three of them, all at once.  
Theseus looked startled – and a little angry.  
“Theseus, I’m sorry, I –“  
Albus began to reach for Theseus’ face then dropped his hand. He whipped around.

“How dare you, Gellert Grindelwald? You come in here, you turn my life upside down again. I wish you had never come back. Do you know what it did to me –“  
“To lose me? I think I do. I lost more than ten pounds in two weeks. I didn’t eat, I didn’t wash, I didn’t sleep…”  
“I almost died, Gellert! I can’t – This is not real. This is – you have confused Theseus, and –“

“I’m not _confused_ , Albus - I think he’s right, I think that you know he’s right, and I think that you are being needlessly stubborn.”  
“Theseus? Shut up.”  
“Do not tell Theseus to shut up,” Gellert warned Albus. “You want to be angry at _me?_ Fine. Stay angry at me, since it has been working out for you so well these past nine years. If you would only listen to yourself… You only want me to leave because you _don’t_ want me to leave. How can you not see how absurd that is?”  
“There’s no such thing as –“

“ _There is!_ Do you want to know who else I have kissed since you?”  
Not really.  
“Theseus, only. Just now. You saw it. That’s the only time. I kissed other people before you, but once I touched you, I couldn’t imagine… How about you? Have you kissed anyone else? Besides Theseus?”  
Albus just glared at Gellert. 

“There’s an easy test, if you don’t believe me. Show one of the letters to someone else.”  
“You believe that strongly in the potion? What if it doesn’t work at all? What if the hoax is whatever bogus formula you found for that ‘magic ink’ –“

“It wasn’t the ink, it was – you soak the parchment in it. That is what makes it indestructible. It’s what makes it follow – if anyone but Theseus had taken that letter, it would have returned to you before it had been out of your control for two minutes. It’s what drew Theseus to it, even though he had not yet met me – it calls to the brewer’s soulmate. It’s what made you do – whatever you needed to do to venerate them – and don’t tell me you didn’t, because that is what happens eventually, but _only to soulmates._ Every other element of the potion worked.”

“But what if the person I give it to _can_ read it? I couldn’t possibly…”  
“Give me a little credit, Albus. I _did_ think of that. The letters don’t all say the same thing. Theseus is holding the one labelled, ‘Don’t you miss me?’ What you need is the third letter: ‘It does no good to destroy them.’”  
Gellert had memorized the letters? 

“But, I suppose, if you can’t find the letters...”  
Gellert was taunting him now. He knew that Albus knew exactly where they were. There was no point in hiding it now.  
“Accio Gellert’s letters.”  
The box flew out of the bedroom, and onto the floor at Albus’ feet. Albus knelt down and ran his hands over the lid of the box. It was carved with an image of the forest outside of Godric’s Hollow, with the sign of the Hallows in the foreground. The sides had been carved all around with images of every kind of flower that grew in Bathilda’s back garden. Gellert knelt down behind him.  
“It’s beautiful,” Gellert said quietly, his lips no more than two inches from Albus’ ear.  
Albus didn’t trust himself to reply as he opened the box, revealing Gellert’s name in runes on the inside of the lid. But when Gellert hooked his chin over Albus’ shoulder, Albus allowed it without question.

Albus sorted through the letters by hand. His hand hovered over the one labelled ‘I still love you,’ but passed it by. He could read it later. If he read any of them later. He was still feeling a little wary. 

Finally, Albus found the letter he was looking for and opened it:  
_If you can read this, then you are the lucky winner of a free palm reading. See if love is in your future._

Albus laughed in spite of himself.  
“You hate palmistry. You always said –“  
Gellert turned and kissed Albus’ cheek. Gods, Albus loved him. He didn’t want to, but he did.

“ – that only charlatans would ever practice it, yes. Well, I did not promise that it would be an accurate reading for anyone but you. And Theseus it seems.”  
Gellert stood. “Theseus? Would you like for me to lick – excuse me – would you like for me to _read_ your palm?”  
“Are you offering to read it with your tongue? Because –“  
“Do not humour him, Theseus. Give him an inch and he’ll take a mile.”  
“And what if I _want_ –“

“Theseus – you’ve just met him.”  
“Fine, let’s set Gellert aside for the moment.”  
“Ouch!” Gellert protested, but with evident good humor.  
“Sorry,” Theseus said to Gellert with a hesitant smile, before continuing to speak to Albus.  
“I haven’t just met _you_. I’ve known you for almost three years. And maybe I didn’t know _exactly_ what it was I was feeling for you before. But I knew I was feeling it, and now – now –“

“Now you can’t think of anything besides sucking his cock?” Gellert suggested.  
“Pretty much,” Theseus conceded. “Although…”  
It would have been impossible to miss what ‘although,’ meant, given the hungry way that Theseus was eyeing Gellert. Had Theseus even _kissed_ someone before this afternoon?

Albus groaned and beat his forehead with his fist. Gellert grabbed his wrist.  
“Oh no, don’t hurt that pretty brain of yours. There is one decision here. Whether you are going to believe me, or test me. That is all.”  
That was – actually a good idea. He didn’t have to take Gellert’s word for it, he didn’t have to rely on such uncertain evidence as Gellert’s button in his pocket… He could run an experiment. He began to calm down. More data. If he had more data…  
“Who should we ask? There’s no one here but Black, which means we’ll have to leave the grounds. Where should we go?”

“We don’t have to go anywhere, Albus,” Theseus supplied. “Horace Slughorn was injured in a potions accident the week before NEWTS, poor guy – he’s still in the infirmary. And of course there’s Madam Purifoy – she had to stay behind to look after him.”  
Albus did not want to interact with Madam Purifoy if he could help it. It was terrifically uncomfortable. She was always flirting with –

“Gellert?”  
“Yes, dear?” Gellert answered, with a deceptively innocent smile.  
“Quit it,” Albus said, meaning to sound rude, but instead sounding affectionate.  
“I need for you to flirt with someone for me.”

“Gods. A woman?”  
“Yes. Mediwitch. She is –“  
“Truly terrifying,” Theseus finished, turning to Gellert and rolling his eyes.  
“What? She is!” Albus protested.

Theseus opened his mouth, but Gellert shook his head at him, instead answering, “So you need me to distract her? This means you are wanting to ask this Slughorn if he can read the paper, because you are afraid to talk to the Mediwitch?”  
Albus shrugged. He wasn’t _afraid_ , precisely, but Gellert’s characterization was more or less accurate, and he had little interest in being teased for it.

“What do you need _me_ to do?“ Theseus asked.  
“Stay here,” Albus answered, at the same time as Gellert said, “Come with us.”  
Theseus looked at Albus hopefully.  
“Fine, fine. Come with us then. We will go in first and ask to see Slughorn, and then almost immediately afterwards, Gellert will walk in to introduce himself as the newest professor on staff, releasing us from her clutches.”

Gellert laughed. “She cannot be that bad.”  
“She’s not,” Theseus said. “Albus just can’t stand for anyone to flirt with him.”  
“That’s not true!”  
“He’s right. It’s not true. He loves for me to flirt with him. Otherwise it is probably true.”

Albus did not rise to Gellert’s bait. He simply went to the door and walked out into the hall. He did not look behind to see if they were following him, but he could feel them – he could feel Theseus’ excitement and Gellert’s hopefulness. He wondered what dominant emotion they were feeling coming from him. He considered asking them - he was too overwhelmed to know the answer for himself.

//\\\//\\\//

Albus sat in a chair beside the bed and Theseus stood some small distance away. Horace, for his part, was propped up in his bed, sweating profusely. Every bit of his hair was missing, and his skin was a translucent lavender, so that his muscles were dimly visible through the skin. He was looking at both sides of the parchment in confusion.  
“What is this about Professor Dumbledore? What made you think that there would be words on this parchment?” 

“A friend had told me –“  
“But can’t you see for yourself that there are no words on it?”  
“Well you see…” 

Albus trailed off. He had nothing to say after ‘well you see.’ He looked down at his hands and then back up – Horace was eyeing him suspiciously.  
His eyes returned to the parchment. He sniffed it gingerly before looking back up at Albus.  
“I don’t suppose you tried to destroy this?” Horace asked, sounding, if anything, weary and defeated.  
Albus attempted to keep his face impassive, but Theseus’ eyerolling did not much help matters.

Horace fixed a steady eye on Albus.  
“I don’t know who brewed the potion responsible for this parchment’s… irregularities. But if you can read this without any sort of revealing spell, if you have tried to destroy it and cannot, if you have tried to get rid of it and cannot, then there is only one thing this can mean. You already know what I am talking about. I suspect you knew the truth of the matter, as well, before you came to run your little experiment on me. What you have is rare, it is precious, and you would do well not to question it.”  
Albus nodded. It was true then. And he had said such terrible things to Gellert. He should be feeling frightened, still – and he was, a little – but mostly he felt relief.

“I can promise you my discretion,” Horace continued, “but for all the gods, tell no one else.”  
“Because –“  
“Can you imagine how an enemy might use this information? This makes you stronger, if you accept it – you can imagine, I’m sure. But it also makes you more vulnerable.”

Albus nodded. But he couldn’t help wondering –  
“Horace, how did you know about all of this? I have never heard of such a potion.“  
“My older sister. She ran away from – it was a difficult idea for her. Because she resisted it, she was miserable for the rest of her too short life. Do you understand? To know is a gift, but only if you accept it.”

“Have _you_ ever –“  
“Why would _I_ brew such a thing? There is no need until – well, until you know that there might be a need, I suppose. What do you suggest I do? Blanket the wide world in letters? When there still might be no one to answer? Few people have one, you know.”  
Yet Albus had two. He felt a twinge of guilt. It seemed unfair. 

Albus and Horace looked at one another silently for a time.  
Theseus broke the silence, saying “I’m sorry about your sister.”  
Horace nodded. “Me too.”  
“And I’m sorry that Crabbe blew up your cauldron.”

“That’s not –“  
Albus took over for Theseus.  
“I cannot imagine it happening any other way. You are an exceptional potioneer, Mr. Slughorn, and would not have made such an error. And I understand that Mr. Crabbe shared your bench. I know that Slytherins do not turn one another in, but now that he’s graduated you surely could admit it.”  
“Yes, I could,” Horace agreed, and they all knew that that meant that the conversation was over. They had overstayed their welcome.

Horace did, however, have a parting gift.  
“If you need more proof, Professor Dumbledore – leave the parchment with me. It should reappear in your pocket before you are back in your quarters. It won’t like being separated from you.”  
Albus did not think that he did, in fact, require any more proof at this point. His heart had been desperately demanding his attention since Theseus had first released the word ‘soulmates’ into the space between the three of them. Nonetheless, he left the parchment with Horace – perhaps being of use in this way would be some solace for him – and evidence of an already proven idea was so often satisfying to receive.

Sure enough, when they had returned to Albus’ room, Albus checked his pockets and found the letter – perfectly readable.  
If young Mr. Slughorn was to be believed, that meant that Albus’ options were limited to acceptance or death. 

Acceptance or death. It would be suicide for Gellert to leave him again, and Gellert knew it. He couldn’t leave. And Albus was beginning to trust that Gellert didn’t _want_ to leave, either.  
Albus wanted this, too. He had wanted to take Gellert back months ago, when he had seen him at that reception. What reason was there left to say no?

Albus walked up to Gellert. He looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time since the morning of that day when Ariana had died. They had woken up in bed together, the sun shining through a gap in the curtains – a slender ray of light had crossed Gellert’s cheek, like an arrow aimed straight at Albus’ chest.  
Not today. Today, Gellert’s entire face was illuminated, and Albus drank it in. 

“I love you – Oh Gellert, I’m sorry I didn’t – “  
Gellert gave a subtle shake of his head, and leaned forward to kiss Albus gently on the lips. “I love you too. I always have. Soulmates or not. I should have written to you much earlier, explained myself, given you a choice.”

Gellert was here, really here.

And Theseus – gods, Theseus. This was – Albus had never heard of anything like this before, but it felt right. It was enough evidence for him that soulmates existed, that he didn’t feel jealous, that he was excited about sharing Theseus with Gellert and Gellert with Theseus. 

“What do we do now?” Albus asked.  
“It seems pretty clear to me,” Theseus answered.  
Gellert threw back his head and laughed, and turned around so that Albus could wrap his arms around him while they both looked at the young man – their young man. 

Albus felt unaccountably happy for someone who had spent most of his afternoon staggering between disorientation, anger, desire, and fear.  
He smiled at Theseus. Had he ever – ? Maybe not. He had been only 16 when their bond activated, and if Gellert was to be believed (and Albus was more and more certain that he was – that he was _always_ to be believed), then Theseus would have been incapable of taking any lover afterwards. Even kissing would have been impossible.  
Theseus had been waiting for nearly two and a half years. No wonder he was so eager. Albus was feeling eager himself. 

“What shall we do with him?” Albus asked Gellert, just loud enough for Theseus to hear.  
“Are you sure you are my Albus Dumbledore?” Gellert asked, amusement in his voice. “You are not wanting first to plan everything? Where we are to live, and what we are to do about Theseus’ mastery, and all the details about the powers and limitations of being soulmates, and –“

Albus growled. He yanked Gellert’s hair aside roughly and sucked on his neck.  
“I have been without you for too long, and Theseus has had too little of either of us. Planning can wait.”  
Theseus laughed. “’Planning can wait?’ That might be the sexiest thing I have ever heard come out of your mouth.”

“Get over here,” Albus commanded. Theseus walked up to them, and Gellert pulled him into his arms.  
“By the end of the day,” Albus promised, “’Planning can wait’ will not even merit a place on the list of sexy things you have heard me say to you.”

“That is the new number one,” Theseus acknowledged with a smile. Gellert leaned forward to capture Theseus’ lips with his own, and Albus sighed with happiness. He had never been so delighted for Gellert to be right.


End file.
